


I Just Realized

by callmeb



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Violence, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeb/pseuds/callmeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It felt like I couldn’t breathe.<br/>It felt like I couldn’t open my eyes.<br/>It felt like my blood would seep from the wound of my broken heart forever. Just the way it seeped from your neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Realized

**Author's Note:**

> No names. Pick your pairing.

_‘I love you.’_

You laughed. You gave me a friendly slap on the back and walked out of your bedroom. I followed you down the stairs of your house.

_‘I’m being serious.’_

You looked at me only for a second before smiling widely.

_‘Sure. I love you too, man. Hah.’_

You thought I was joking. I wasn’t.

_‘No. I mean I really love you. Don’t you get it?’_

Either you didn’t get it or you pretended not to. You rolled your eyes at me.

_‘Of course I get it, man. I love you, too. You’re my best friend.’_

You weren’t even looking at me anymore. I followed you into the kitchen where you got ready to do the dishes.

_‘I don’t want to be your best friend. I love you. Way more than that. Please, look at me?’_

You didn’t. You just stood with your hands in the hot water in the sink, moving dishes around.

_‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Hand me those plates.’_

The tone you used told me to drop the subject. Like every other time I tried to tell you how I felt. But I didn’t want to drop it. I wanted to make you understand. I was determined to make you understand.

I gave you the dirty plates from the table, nonetheless. And our hands lightly brushed when you grabbed them from my grasp. I felt electric.

_‘You do know what I’m talking about. Stop doing this to me. Just fucking listen to what I’m saying for once!’_

You threw the plates into the steamy water and turned to me sharply. You were mad. I could always tell when you were mad.

_‘Would you like to rinse the dishes? I’ll wash them.’_

It wasn’t a question. You were demanding me to help you with the dishes.

And so I did. I stood next to you. You handed me each plate or cup or utensil after scrubbing the grime from it and I rinsed them all off. I put them all in the drainer next to me in the order I knew you wanted them to be. But the entire time, my eyes were trained on you.

_‘Why can’t you accept that I love you?’_

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even look at me as you got down to the last of the dirty dishes.

_‘Because I don’t accept faggots in my life. Be careful with that! That wine glass isn’t cheap, you know.’_

The wine glass. You cared more about the damned wine glass than you did about me. Didn’t you?

I was mad. Because I had finally realized something. It took three years of me trying to confess my feelings to you. It took constantly being ignored. It took you saying that you don’t accept faggots. It took you bitching about a stupid wine glass. It took all of this just for me to finally realize something:

_‘You don’t love me at all. Not even as a friend. You just act like we’re friends because you need me in this band. Because you need me when your wife leaves you. I’m just a shoulder to cry on. I’m just the guy that helps you do your dishes. I’m just the guy that cleans up your house the morning after you throw a party because you’re too hung over to do it yourself.’_

You didn’t reply. You still didn’t look at me. You scrubbed the last knife clean and tossed it to me. It landed on my hand and cut me. You didn’t care.  You walked to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

I looked at the knife. It was a big one. You had used it to cut through a steak at lunch that day.

I looked at the blood running down my hand. The water was washing it away as it dripped into the sink.

I grabbed the knife. I held it tightly. You still weren’t paying attention to me. So I walked up behind you. Close enough to smell you, but not enough to make you move away.

You just stood there, aggravated with me, ignoring me. And in the blink of an eye, I had one hand hiding in your hair. The other brought the knife clean across your neck.

You didn’t even have time to be surprised. I could hear your gargling. I could hear the blood splattering on the floor. I could see the usually white tiles turning red. Crimson red.

It was my favorite color -- the color of hot, thick blood -- and so I watched happily as the socks on my feet turned crimson as well.

When I let you go, you fell to the floor. You were on your back, eyes gazing at me.

_‘I still love you. I promise. But this had to happen. I hope you know that.’_

You were trying to keep breathing.

You were trying to keep your eyes open.

You were trying to stop the flow of blood.

You were failing at it all.

I finally felt like you understood how I felt. Because loving you and knowing you didn’t love me back felt like having my throat slit open.

It felt like I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like I couldn’t open my eyes.

It felt like my blood would seep from the wound of my broken heart forever. Just the way it seeped from your neck.

I smiled at you. You finally stopped fighting the inevitable.

_‘Good.’_

 

So now here I am. I stand above you once again. I place one rose on the ground. It’s a long-stemmed, white rose. Your favorite. I smile at what’s left of you: just a picture. No one knows who did this to you. You know who. I know who. But no one else.

I turn my back to you, and I walk away. Just like you always walked away from me. By the time I look back at where you rest, your picture is too small to see. I see only the freshly poured dirt and the grey tombstone. And that’s all you are to me from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, 6 year old fic originally on lpfiction


End file.
